


Rain

by Faerie_Speak



Category: X-Factor (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:03:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faerie_Speak/pseuds/Faerie_Speak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Shatterstar dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain

He sleeps like an infant when it rains at night. Which is better than during the day, where Julio has to stop him from running out to be in the rain. It’s criminal how adorable and child-like ‘Star can be with these things, how he looks when he’s asleep on the couch in the winter. It’s what Rictor thinks when he has to wake him up to get him under the covers properly because, healing factor or not, Rictor knows how guilty he’d feel if Shatterstar still ended up catching something.

'Star is pretty sure he dreams, or something like dreaming at any rate. He dreams of running, of the beach in Mexico. He dreams lately of Alison's face falling into a lax sleep as he takes himself and Longshot away from her, all memory and existence. It had seemed so right at the time….

He dreams about Rictor’s laugh, the roll of his shoulders when he’s sat too long in the computer chair. He dreams about Monet’s perfume and how the room always smells like her long minutes after she’s gone. He dreams of Guido’s soul dissipating like mist, and in those terrifying seconds before he realizes it's a dream, Shatterstar tries to locate and rescue all the fragile, smokey tendrils to give it back to his friend.

He dreams of rain, pattering down the roof, sloughing off on to the concrete in sheets, in waves, gushing down gutters like rivers. Pounding away in a rhythm that no one could predict or replicate. Shatterstar dreams of imperfect weather, the rain and snow and ice, chaotic and free and wonderful. Those are the nights he sleeps best, tangling in Rictor’s arms, listening to the muted sounds rise and ebb around them; Rictor’s flowing Spanish, Rahne’s husky chuckle, all mixed in to the sound of the rain outside.


End file.
